Constance
by oglop
Summary: A girl with three faces?
1. Chapter 1

Very vaguely connected to the X-men mythos, this story explores a much more realistic mutant but adds an interesting twist. Hope you enjoy it

Chapter 1

"Mr. Ford," a frail woman's voice whispered to the unconscious man lounging in the chair. She shook him lightly and he began to stir. His eyes came into focus and he looked upon a scene of utter tranquility. Two men were asleep in chairs on the opposite side of the room and the only thing that moved was the small figure of the nurse before him. She stood up straight and began to speak to him once more. "Mr. Ford, wake up"

His senses began to return; he remembered where he was and why he was here; who he was here to see. Frantically, he began to fire questions at the bewildered nurse. "The baby. How is it? What is it? What weight? Caroline? How is she? Is the baby alright?" The two men on the other side of the room awoke at his frantic questions.

"Mr. Ford, calm down. The baby's fine. There were some complications though." Her voice trailed off at the end as Mr. Ford's face turned from delight to horror in a split second.

"Complications? What comp…" he asked before being cut off by the nurse. 

"Please, Mr. Ford, take a seat." Her eyes had a solemn look that meant only one thing.

"Oh no, no, no, no, don't say it. Please, don't say it." A look of terrible grief came across his face as he slumped down in the chair. 

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Ford, your wife died 5 minutes ago." A tear appeared in the corner of the nurses' eye as she watched the poor man in front of her break down and cry. She sat with him, rubbing his back in a rhythmic consoling fashion. He sobbed for almost 10 minutes before another nurse came and replaced the small blonde woman. She helped him up and asked him to follow her along the corridor.

The second nurse was a lot taller than the last and she had a much more experienced face. Her round glasses magnified her green eyes and her long brown hair swayed in a ponytail behind her. "I am very sorry for your wife's death, Mr. Ford. She kept herself alive for so long knowing that she had to for the sake of your child. Don't let that go to waste. Cherish her, that's what Caroline would have wanted. May I ask what your daughter's name is?"

A weak smile appeared across the grief stricken face of Thomas Ford as he realised the truth of her words and heard of his daughter for the first time. "Constance. Caroline always wanted her to be called Constance."

"Constance, a wonderful choice. Constance Ford," she mumbled while scribbling it down on her clipboard. "Caroline passed on peacefully, your conscience is cleared Mr. Ford. Her soul is free now and a part of her lives on in Constance"

The smile grew slightly as he took in the nurses comforting words. "How is she?" he asked, still sobbing slightly, as they stepped through a double door into a small room.

"As I'm sure Nurse Peters explained, there were some complications during the birth. She is perfectly healthy and of a good weight but there is an enigma about her; something that the Doctors cannot explain. Take a look for yourself."

The nurse stepped aside to let Mr. Ford past. He looked over the side of the plastic crib to see his daughter for the first time. His eyes were still hazy from the tears earlier and couldn't make out any features. It took him a couple of seconds to focus, buy when he did he jumped back horrified at what he was seeing.

"Enigma?" Mr. Ford asked the nurse, trying to understand what he had just seen but not daring to look once more. He came to a quick conclusion. One that many more parents were hearing in this day and age. "Mutant?" 

"No sir, she isn't a mutant. The complication seems to be only physical and not caused by an active x-gene. We're not sure how much it will affect her mental health. Your daughter in her own way is unique." 

"So what exactly do you call that? What's happened to her, I mean." Mr. Ford asked, still not understanding that the nurse knew only as much as he did.

"We don't sir. We just call it as we see it. Your daughter has an unexplained occurrence at birth. Multi-Visio Syndrome, Doctor Brant has named it." She jotted something down on the sheet. "Constance Ford. Born with three faces."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Thomas Ford stepped up onto the podium and placed his shaking hands on either side of the wooden lectern. He looked over at the mass of faces, the sheer mass of people, young and old, who had known his wife, Caroline. Now it was his turn to speak, to clear his conscience and to say a final goodbye. His eyes strayed to the left and landed on the morbid shape of the coffin. A tear formed in the corner of his eye and he quickly looked away. His eyes landed on his mother and the tiny bundle that lay on her lap, his daughter, Constance. He straightened his back, raised his head and prepared to speak.

"It's sad really. We hadn't talked for so long, I don't even remember her voice. I tried so hard to remember it, to remember that smooth, airy voice. The voice of an angel a newspaper once said. The voice of an angel…" He trailed off, falling into the recesses of his memory. A slight smile darted across his face and Constance wriggled restlessly in her blanket. His eyes refocused and he continued. "The night I heard the news, that Caroline had died and that Constance had been born, I thought about a lot of things. Fate mostly. Whether it really was Caroline's time, whether she had fulfilled her part in God's plan. I believe that the answer is yes, after struggling for so long why else would she have given up that night if not that she had fulfilled her part in the plan, to bring Constance into this world. My daughter." He stopped for a second before adding, "Our daughter."

He looked across at the faces, taking in each one, meeting them eye to eye until he came to his daughter. He blinked a tear from his eye and finally added. "Everyone has a part in God's plan and Caroline fulfilled her part. The best we can do is honour what she did in her dying moments and be happy that from her death came life. A phoenix from the flames." With this he stepped off the podium and walked over to the coffin.

"Goodbye my love. And thank you." He continued past the coffin to his seat, took the bundle of blankets that held Constance from his mother and began to weep.

Constance sat in the darkness, shrouded in shadow, shaking from fright. This was the third time she had been in this place, the third time she had curled up, petrified by the darkness. But this time it was different. She could hear a voice in the distance. It had been growing gradually louder for what seemed like an age until Constance could finally make out what the voice was saying. It was her name. 

"Constance…Constance…" the airy voice repeated, untiringly searching for a reply.

"Hello?" came Constance's' startled reply.

"Hello, Constance. I've been searching for you, searching for a long time. Were you asleep?" the airy voice asked inquisitively, genuinely interested in where Constance had been.

"No," came Constance's startled voice once more.

"Ah, then you were awake." The feminine voice chuckled as she stepped out of the shadows showing herself for the first time. The endless shadows morphed gradually into a gleaming white aura as Constance finally saw whom the voice belonged to. The woman wore simple white garments and a beautiful smile across her face. "Such a beautiful girl" she said looking down at the girl before. Totally normal in every way. "Have you met your father?" she added.

"I think so…" Constance replied having not really understood her ventures into that world. Her time spent engulfed in the shadows had dominated her thoughts during her.

"Good. Constance?"

"Yes?" 

"Now you must tell me the truth, Ok?"

"Yes," came Constance's slightly confused reply.

"Am I the first person you have met here?"

"Yes." 

"Then you haven't met _him_ yet?"

"Met who?" Constance asked with a slight inquisitiveness in her voice. 

"I'm sure you'll meet _him_ soon enough," the woman replied, "and when you do, you must promise me something. Make sure you ignore what _he_ says. _He_ will try to use you, try to use you to do bad things. Don't listen to _him_ Constance or your mummy will be very cross. I'll tell her if you're naughty. Be good Constance and remember, don't listen to _him_." With that the woman strolled away back into the shadows leaving a small light lying next to Constance, making sure to dismiss her fears before she left her to be alone once again. As soon as the woman was gone she lay down next to the soothing light and awoke.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Constance lay quite still in her little wooden manger, too comfortable to move. Surrounded by thick blankets of festive colours, she couldn't possibly be any more comfortable. He had sat in his chair for the past hour or so just rocking her back and forth, a glazed expression on his face. Tis' the season to be jolly she had heard her father muttering when he tucked her in, a smile on his face, although what this meant she didn't know and he wouldn't tell her. She'd asked him over and over again but he just smiled and sat back in his chair every time. One day he had to answer.

This was now the third time she'd been in this place, the third day and she was beginning to like it. It felt safe, a lot more so than the dark place at least. She stretched her fingers, the only part of her body that she could control, closed her eyes and fell fast asleep. 

Thomas sat next to her and watched her falling asleep, noticing how peaceful she looked when she slept. He slumped down in his chair and began to talk.

"Hey Caroline."

Constance's eyes opened on the right side of her head. She looked over at him adoringly. "Hello Thomas."

Thomas Ford's head slowly turned to the left. A petrified look came across his face as his eyes met hers. After a couple of seconds he jerked his head away covering his eyes. "No, this isn't right, you're not her." He stopped talking as he came across the grave truth. "You're me… talking to myself." He began to cry as an image of his wife came into his mind.

"No Thomas it's me, Caroline."

"No, it's not. Why am I doing this to myself?" he shouted in reply to his daughters statement.

"I miss you Caroline," he said before rushing out of the room, wiping his eyes as he went, realizing that he was finally losing it. It had taken 9 months but Thomas Ford had finally broken down.

The right side of Constance's face, Caroline's face, began to cry as she realized that she had just scared away her daughters last protector. Her husband. 

Constance sat cross-legged next to her light, surrounded on all sides by shadow but protected by a beautiful white aura, a present from an angel, at least in Constance's eyes.

She stared into the soothing light, swaying slightly in the wind, which constantly changed direction, darting one-way and then another, making her hair flow behind her or quickly in front of her, blocking the precious light.

A sudden gust knocked Constance forwards. She tumbled over and rolled past the light towards the darkness, towards her terror once more. The light went out and she was plunged into darkness.

A couple of seconds passed. The wind stopped and a red flame appeared a short distance in front of her. Another ignited next to it, and another and another until they surrounded her in a circle of warmth. She closed her eyes and felt the warmth of the flames around her. She sensed something around her, felt the movement behind her and opened her eyes. A man was standing before her, his face in front of hers, their eyes meeting. Hazel eyes with a red tinge and a spark in the middle. Mischievous.

"Hello Constance," he said, still staring into her eyes, piercing her soul with his glare.

She didn't reply. She was frozen in fear, unable to move.

"Do you like the fire?" He inquired, pulling his face away from hers and taking a couple of steps back.

"It's warm," she replied not understanding what he wanted her to say. 

"Yes, it has other uses too" he replied, "but you need not know about fire, except that it will keep you warm in this cold dark place." He had a smile across his face but he couldn't conceal the look in his eyes.

"I think you've met my friend. Did she tell you her name?"

"No, but she left me a light." Constance replied, remembering the white woman who had visited her, what seemed like a very long time ago. 

"Ah, what use is light?" he questioned. "When fire gives you light and heat, keeps you safe in the dark. It'll all be all right Constance, trust me. Look into the flame."

She stared into the flame as he asked and vaguely remembered the white woman saying something about this man, but before she could remember, she was lying down, asleep in a ring of fire. 

She woke up, lying in her manger all alone once more. "Yrev Doog" she whispered before getting comfortable, preparing for the long wait she would have to endure.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

_12 Years Later…_

Constance Ford awoke.

Her eyes focused on the fire before her. She was engrossed in the swaying of the flames, the different shades of red and yellow and orange, the warmth that emanated from it. Fire had become almost an obsession for Constance although she didn't know why.

Sitting up, she leant back on the wall, closed her eyes and let the warmth flow over her. Hearing a noise in front of her, she opened her eyes and looked past the roaring fire before her and into the eyes of another.

"Hello Constance." It was a woman's' voice although it wasn't nurturing like a mother's, it was rough and the sympathy was obviously fake. Constance didn't bother to ask how she knew her name. This was the fourth time a woman like this had found her and even if they didn't all know her name by now it wasn't hard to recognize her. Three faces tend to make you stand out from the crowd. 

"Just clear off" Constance muttered as she stood up and begin to gather up any of her belongings that were littered about the floor. The fire in the bin continued to burn and every now and again Constance would throw on another piece of scrap wood to keep it alive. The woman carefully stepped around the burning bin and began to talk to Constance. "The streets are no place for a 12 year old girl, I've got a warm bed and good food waiting for you at the hostel."

"I know, I've heard it all before and for the fourth time, I believe you, damn it." She sighed and then finished. "I just don't like the hostels. I don't exactly fit in do I. I'm better off here." She stared long and hard into the woman's eyes, desperately trying to make her understand but in the end she admitted defeat. It'd never happen.

She slung her bag over her shoulder and started to walk towards the woman. The woman stepped back, a smile on her face. The woman turned her back and began to walk towards the street at the end of the alleyway. Constance stopped abruptly and closed her eyes.

"Hello again Constance" came _his_ voice.

"What do you want now?" she said backing away into the darkness.

A circle of fire appeared around her and in front of her stood him. "Your body of course" he chuckled before slamming his fist into her face. She crumpled to the floor and the flames extinguished. 

"Ssim em esucxe?" Constance shouted to the woman.

"What?" she replied, turning to face Constance, a puzzled look on her face. 

"Lleh fo serif eht ekil uoy od woh?" she cackled, the flaming bin resting in her hands. The woman stood petrified, afraid of the face, the left face, afraid of the voice, the malice and the fire. She only realized what had happened when she felt the heat on her head, the heat from the flames burning away her hair and beginning to melt her scalp. 

Constance stood back and watched. She watched and laughed. Laughed as she watched the woman struggle to escape the burning bin, struggled without the chance of ever escaping. Constance just laughed, a sick little chuckle before turning away. Finally boring of the dying woman, Constance picked up her bag and ran to the end of the alleyway, fleeing the scene of the crime. 

"Constance! Constance! Wake up!" The White Woman approached, her aura bathing Constance in bright light. She had searched for Constance for 12 years now, traveling the darkness of her mind and she wouldn't let her die now, not to _him_.

"He…" Constance mumbled.

"He what dear?" The White Woman inquired anxious to know what she had to say.

"Hit me," She finished, sitting up and looking the White Woman in the eyes.

"Yes, I noticed." _It was hard not to_ she thought. The pool of blood and the bruise on her nose certainly helped her come to that conclusion. "We've got to get you away from here. He'll be back soon and I want you somewhere safe, somewhere he won't find you so I can go and sort out his mess. Quick child come with me." 

Pulling Constance to her feet, the White Woman began to lead her into the darkness and supposedly to safety.


End file.
